


lest we defy the stars

by CosmoKid



Series: Murphamy Week 2019 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Companionable Snark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murphamy Week, Murphamy Week 2019, Philosophy, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Slash, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-06 07:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20287324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: Murphy finds him at the viewing platform, staring at the burning Earth. They've been up in space for two years now and yet he still hasn't gotten familiar enough with Murphy's much stealthier presence as to not jump when he speaks."You know that the Earth isn't going to be put out by you staring at it, right?"He huffs out a laugh, not turning to face him, "No, I didn't, Murphy. I thought I had a magical gaze that can reverse nuclear devastation."The light tone to his voice is forced and Murphy sees right through it, "So why do you come and stare at it almost every day?"Murphamy Week Day 1: Trauma and/or Healing





	lest we defy the stars

**Author's Note:**

> this started as bellamy comforting murphy and apologisng for 1x04 but then it flipped on its head so here is: trauma and healing (kind of) via philosophical debates on free will

Murphy finds him at the viewing platform, staring at the burning Earth. They've been up in space for two years now and yet he still hasn't gotten familiar enough with Murphy's much stealthier presence as to not jump when he speaks.

"You know that the Earth isn't going to be put out by you staring at it, right?"

He huffs out a laugh, not turning to face him, "No, I didn't, Murphy. I thought I had a magical gaze that can reverse nuclear devastation."

The light tone to his voice is forced and Murphy sees right through it, "So why do you come and stare at it almost every day?"

It's not been three years since Bell first encountered Murphy, back when he was a scrappy kid wanting to gain approval, but he's matured so much. His words are subtle, an invitation to talk, but with the opportunity for him to brush it away. 

He lets out an audible breath, inclining his head so he can just see the other boy. Murphy doesn't avoid his gaze though he makes no move.

"Guess I'm... _longing_ for home," Bellamy says after several moments of silence, running a hand through his hair.

Murphy's brow quirks, "Earth is home?"

He's quick to shake his head. The ground has never been his home and he says as such. He's lived there, sure, but it's never been home for him.

"So where is home?" Murphy asks him and his voice is cautious, "For you?"

In lieu of answering, he forces a light tone to his voice again and remarks, "Didn't realize we were having a therapy session."

Murphy chuckles, the edges of his lips quirking up so Bellamy can see more of his teeth. He watches as Murphy wipes his nose, the way he used to do when he was trying to seem threatening rather than a scrawny little kid. It'd never worked on Bellamy, rather endearing Murphy to him.

He only wishes that his motives behind approaching Murphy had been different. There would be comfort in always having good intentions.

"You're deflecting," Murphy tells him.

"When did you get so smart?"

"Still deflecting."

He sucks his teeth and sighs, "Home is an ideal that only the privileged get to experience."

Murphy hums in response, "You think having a home is a luxury."

Bellamy cocks his head to the side, "You don't?"

"Not really," Murphy says, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Home can be whatever we want it to be, we get to decide."

He snorts, "Do we? Really?"

"What? You're telling me you don't believe in free will, Bell?" Murphy questions, incredulity painting each word. "What happened to whatever the hell we want?"

"Whatever the hell we want was a pipe dream," he says and rolls his eyes. "We were forced to the ground because something on the ark went wrong, we had to fight a war because we landed in someone's territory, we had to invade Mount Weather so they wouldn't kill our people, hell, we're up in space again because of nuclear devastation. We didn't get a choice in any of that."

"We did," Murphy counters and Bellamy pivots so he's facing him, the burning planet forgotten. "To live or to die. We could have done nothing and just, well, died."

His eyes narrow and his brow furrows, "Can you really choose to die?"

"Yeah," Murphy says as if it's the simplest thing in the universe. "What I think you actually want to ask if whether you can be held accountable for what you did when you chose to live."

He stops, the gears in his mind grinding to a halt, "How did you..."

"Know that? Because you want me, well, anyone, to answer it for you," Murphy tells him, crossing his arms and waiting for Bellamy to reply. He doesn't and Murphy continues, "It would be easier for you if you had someone to blame for everything that happened, but it gets a lot harder when you're the one to blame. It'd be easier for you to forgive yourself for, for Mount Weather if you could say it wasn't your fault because the only other option was death, but if you do that, you can't blame Mount Weather for what they did because by doing it, they were choosing to live."

To say the words pass over him like a tsunami would be to say that the acid rain was just a drizzle. His state is blank as he tries to process them, his gaze not moving from Murphy's face. 

He guesses it's easier to look at it that way for Murphy since he wasn't in Mount Weather like they were, but at the same time, he doesn't remember Murphy being this philosophical or wise or whatever the word is to describe what he is.

It appears that Murphy picks up on it, just from the expression on his face.

"You have a lot of time to think when a crazed mam locks you in a bunker for three months," he says and shrugs. "I could either think or I could watch a video of a guy shooting himself."

Bellamy let's out an almost maniacal laugh despite himself. "So your quest with Jaha turned you into a philosophy guru."

Murphy snorts, "If that's what you want to call it."

"So," he starts, taking an unconscious step toward Murphy. "Have you come to a conclusion on your... debate?"

"On free will?" he asks and Bellamy nods. Murphy shrugs again. "Not yet."

"There's a joke about irony in there somewhere."

Murphy grins, his teeth seeming to shine. "I think the answer to that is yes."

He lets out another laugh and scratches the back of his neck, trying to take it all in. He barely noticed them moving closer to each other, but Murphy's now within less than an arm's reach. Too aware of his heavy breathing, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He looks out at the burning planet and then back at Murphy. 

It's incredible, really, how far they've come in a way that Bellamy can barely comprehend. All he really knows is that they're in space and John Murphy is standing in front of him. The feelings he's developed for him are trivial in this moment though they burn bright on his chest. There's a yearning deep in his stomach, but it's become such a permanent fixture that it's barely discernible. 

"Feeling sorry doesn't help anyone, you know?" Murphy asks, his voice breaking into his kind, shattering his already incoherent thoughts. "No matter how much you agonize over it, nothing is going to bring Clarke back."

He sighs, "I _know_ that."

"So why are you still mourning after two years?"

"Who says I'm mourning Clarke?"

"Nobody," Murphy says and again, Bellamy is taken aback by the simplicity of it. He drags his hand down his face as Murphy continues, "You're mourning a debt-free life. You think you're alive because she's dead."

Bellamy frowns, "Don't you?"

Murphy shakes his head, "Any of us could have died trying to get up here, she drew the short straw."

"So what? You don't owe her anything? At all?"

"We could sit around all day counting life debts and favors we owe each other," Murphy says, reaching up to scratch his nose. "But what's the point? I'd rather just live."

His response to that is silence whether he wants to respond or not. He doesn't know how and he doesn't know how far the not knowing goes. Oh, the irony to it all.

"Look," Murphy starts, "To you, she died so you could live. So are you going to spend the next three years moping or are you going to live?"

He snaps then, "I don't know how to do that!"

The realization of it doesn't quite predate the moment that the apology spills out of his mouth, but then Murphy's index finger is on his lips, silencing him.

"I don't... I don't know how to either," Murphy murmurs and there's something raw to his voice. His hand shifts to cup Bellamy's face, the touch hesitant like he's waiting for Bellamy to tell him to stop. He doesn't. "I haven't been able to just live since I was six years old, but we've got three years to figure it out."

He licks his lips, acutely aware of every minute movement Murphy makes. His voice is breathless when he speaks, "How?"

"Just,", Murphy starts, but pauses to catch his breath, "Whatever the hell we want, right?"

Bellamy takes a deep breath before he asks, "And if what I wanted was to kiss you?"

There's a hint of a smile on Murphy's face, "I'd be amenable to that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> come cry with me on [tumblr](https://listen-to-the-inner-walrus.tumblr.com/)  



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